Call of Childhood
by Altlantica Stitch
Summary: While looking over the information for the next game, the Composer stumbles across some old memories. Painful memories of a little boy named Marcus Kiryu. Depressing and spoilerrific.
1. Chapter 1: Marcus

Depressing story ahoy! I was talking with my friend, and we ended up discussing the idea of Joshua having a younger brother. I decided that perhaps that was why he acted the way he did. Spoilers abound. I think this is set in the 70s or 80s, but I didn't bother to look up any particular details to make sure everything's accurate.**

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**Call of Childhood**

**Chapter 1: Marcus**

Long, pale fingers rifled through the pages of sheet music, stopping here and there to pen in a forgotten note. Skillful hands did their work automatically, as they'd done for years. It was not fun- paperwork rarely was- but it kept his hands busy while his mind focused on other matters. The corners of his lips were turned down in a frown as he reviewed the participants of the next Game. So many young this time, killed in gang fights, fires…car accidents. His hands paused in their work as he came across a particular Player. Only twelve years old, killed in a head-on collision. His entry fee: his 16 year old brother.

He set the sheets aside, rising to his feet. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall as he searched for a particular sheet. The paper felt fragile in his hands; the edges were beginning to curl from age, but the ink was perfectly preserved. The name looked strange on the page- his mother was American and had trouble pronouncing Japanese names. Even the boy's older brother, given a proper Japanese name, had an English nickname. A quiet sigh escaped him, almost deafening in the silent hall.

"Marcus Kiryu…"

--x--

It was supposed to be exciting, he knew that. The due date for his baby brother was in less than 24 hours. Yoshiya had never thought himself to be pessimistic or cynical, but he knew that a younger brother was nothing to be happy about. With almost nine years of age difference between them, bonding would be nearly impossible, not to mention the free reign babies get. Not even being a child prodigy (a fact which his parents had gushed about to anyone they met) would save him from taking the blame every time the precious child did something wrong. Yoshiya knew that the next decade of his life was going to be hell.

--x--

Now Yoshiya knew why hospitals were so cold. At 2 o'clock in the morning, cold rooms and uncomfortable chairs were the only things that could keep you awake. Yoshiya absently watched his father fidget in his seat, looking to the doors every few seconds. He knew his father must be worried out of his mind about the birth. Yoshiya just wanted to go back to bed.

After an eternity that was only 3 hours in reality, they were led into the small room. His mother was sitting up in the bed. Her hair was damp with sweat, but she was smiling all the same. She held a small bundle of blankets, which squirmed faintly in her arms. She handed it to Yoshiya wordlessly, who flashed her a very convincing smile.

The tiny child inside was bright pink and healthy, with large green eyes and the beginnings of blond hair. He reached up a tiny hand to his big brother, blinking curiously. His mother smiled.

"His name is Marcus," she said affectionately. "Marcus Kiryu."

So the Devil had a name.

--x--

"Mother, I'm going out," Yoshiya called, already halfway out the door. "I'm meeting Tsubasa at Sunshine." He paused for a moment, knowing the horrible words that were coming.

"Take Marcus with you, dear!" Like always, the little demon appeared out of nowhere, crashing into Yoshiya eagerly. Even after seven years, the boy was still the devil in disguise and stubbornly devoted to his big brother. Yoshiya pried his brother from his leg, heading out the door.

"Nii-san, can we go rollerblading?" Marcus asked eagerly, bouncing at his side. Yoshiya glanced at him, working on setting up Marcus's car seat.

"We're meeting my friends for lunch. So don't humiliate me." He grumbled. Marcus fell silent, but his smile never wavered. Yoshiya strapped him in quickly, not enjoying the physical contact. He quickly slung himself into the driver's seat, trying to ignore him.

As they drove, Marcus reached over and began adjusting the knobs on the radio, grinning slightly. Yoshiya knocked his hand away. "Knock it off!" he snapped, adjusting the radio back to his preferred station. Irritation tightened Yoshiya's muscles, and he was pressing down on the gas pedal harder than he had intended. He slammed on the brake, trying to turn before he ran off the road. It was basic physics- momentum and inertia. His car couldn't turn quickly enough. Marcus had been trying to adjust the radio again- neither of them saw the telephone pole.

Everything passed in small flashes of clarity. There was definitely screaming, and he remembered smoke and the crunching of metal. His head felt wet and throbbed with pain. Some logical part of his brain told him he probably had a concussion. His face and hands stung where the glass and metal had cut him. He felt flames searing across his already raw skin, but nothing felt important. One thing stood out clearly in those hazy moments.

"Nii-san…" a weak voice pleaded, coughing. "Nii-s…where are you…?" The entire passenger side of the care was a caved-in wreck.

"Marcus!" Yoshiya cried, his voice hoarse and hollow in his ears. He tore frantically at the wreckage, sharp metal shards slicing new wounds into his hands. Nothing mattered to him- his brother was dying. Around that time, his memory blurred. The paramedics arrived at some point, trying to move him away from the scene. They told him that he had struggled. That he kicked and bit like a wild animal, screaming Marcus's name over and over. They said that the blood loss caught up to him then, and that he passed out. Eventually, they pulled Marcus's body from the wreck. When Yoshiya called for him, he tried to fight his way out. He was badly burned, and a piece of shrapnel had pierced his lung. He was dead almost instantly.

Yoshiya didn't recall his first week in the hospital. They said that the concussion might have caused it. Perhaps he simply didn't want to remember. They told him that he refused to be treated. He would rip out his IVs and knock away any medical instruments they tried to bring near him. He would claw at his bandages and would sometimes attack the nurses. He would only say one thing the entire time- Marcus's name. He constantly demanded to see his brother, and if the nurses tried to dissuade him, he only got more aggressive.

The first thing he remembered was being forcibly pressed to the bed by three nurses. They said it was a response to his parents' names. "Don't tell Mother," he had pleaded. "Anything but that…" They said it was just the concussion talking.

Even once he was back in his right mind, he was still stubborn. He would allow them to put the IV in, but it would always 'mysteriously slip off' once the nurses had left. Eventually, they started slipping him sleeping medication to keep him calm. At one point, he managed to press a nurse until she admitted that he cried for his brother in his sleep.

--x--

Time passed as always. He was eventually sent home, but he overheard the doctor warning his parents. They suspected that the combination of the trauma and the heavy concussion might have affected him negatively. That he might have a few personality quirks. Of course, he knew they were mistaken. He wasn't any different. He was just trying to be the best big brother he could be.

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Reviews are loved.


	2. Chapter 2: Hallucinating

I forgot to put this in last chapter:

Disclaimer: I do not own The World Ends With You, or any of its characters.

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**Call of Childhood**

**Chapter 2: Hallucinating**

It wasn't like he couldn't remember his past. He hadn't suffered any memory loss. But he felt detached. Like he was remembering someone else. He wouldn't…no, he _couldn't_ be Yoshiya. He wouldn't be the one who murdered Marcus Kiryu.

White and blue had been Marcus's favorite colors. He refused to wear any other color.

Marcus had once told him that he thought his hair looked better messy. All his hair gel was trashed.

Marcus had always loved board games and loved to collect action figures. His toy chest found its way to Yoshiya's room.

Marcus had grown with his mother's accent, and had always had trouble pronouncing Japanese names. He had given Yoshiya a nickname he could pronounce. He stopped answering to anything else. "Don't call me that," he would say. "My name is Joshua." His voice lost Yoshiya's sharp edge. He spoke quietly, almost in a monotone. He rarely made eye contact anymore, and he always kept his hands busy.

--x--

Perhaps the concussion had damaged him a little. He had never been spiritual; he never believed in ghosts or messages from the beyond. He didn't even grasp the concept of death until the age of seven. When he was young, he thought he could see the afterlife, not that he called it that then. He would see people in pairs, fighting strange animals with tattoos for limbs, even though no one else seemed to be able to. He never found that fact odd, at least until they told his parents. The psychiatric treatment was immensely unhelpful. Eventually he just said it wasn't real and ended it. It was difficult in the beginning, ignoring a life-and-death struggled going on right in front of his nose, but he just kept telling himself it wasn't real, and eventually, he stopped seeing it.

A week after his escape from the hospital, they were there. Two huge kangaroos with bright purple fur, their legs forms by glowing green tattoos. "Come on, come on!" A man with black hair dashed past, firing bursts of energy from one hand. One of the kangaroos was struck head on and stumbled back, bursting into television static. A second, much smaller figure swept past, striking the second kangaroo with a hockey stick. They skidded to a stop, and Joshua noticed that they were wearing rollerblades. Pain ripped through Joshua's chest. "No…" he whispered. The boy stopped, looking over at him. His eyes widened.

"Nii-…san…?" he whispered, green eyes wide with shock.

"Marcus, move!" The man flashed past, pushing Marcus aside, seconds before the kangaroo noise crashed down. Marcus stumbled, falling to the ground. The man fired a burst of energy, the kangaroo exploding into static. He pulled Marcus up, looking at where Joshua was standing. "You know him, huh?"

"Big brother…" Marcus whispered, looking pained.

"He can't see us, Marc." The man sighed. "Come on. We still have to finish the mission." With a mournful glance at Joshua, Marcus skated off.

The next thing Joshua remembered was lying on his bed, tears staining his pillow. He couldn't remember walking home at all.

Joshua wandered the streets every day that week. He looked for Marcus desperately. People must've thought he was mentally unstable, wandering the streets with dead eyes, looking at empty air. He couldn't recall how many days he wandered the streets, but he found Marcus again. He was too late. Marcus was still with the stranger, battling again. It was against a giant dragon, made almost entirely of orange tattoos, with its wings the only solid things on it. It reared back, emitting a huge jet of tattoo flames. Marcus skated out of the way, slashing at the dragon with his hockey stick. His partner wasn't so lucky.

The man's brown eyes widened in a sort of detached surprise as he fell. His body broke apart into static, gone before he hit the ground. Marcus stood over the spot where he fell, tears in his eyes.

"Marcus?" Joshua whispered, stepping forward. Marcus looked up quickly, eyes wide.

"Nii-san…You can see me…?" he whispered. Joshua nodded wordlessly, and Marcus dashed forward, trying to hug him. Joshua gasped quietly as his brother passed harmlessly through him.

"What happened to him?" Joshua asked quietly, looking at where the man had fallen.

"H-he got Erased." Marcus said sadly. "I…I guess I only have three minutes now…"

"Three minutes to do what?" Joshua asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Players can't survive without a partner." Marcus sighed. "I'll be…I'll be Erased too…"

"No!" Joshua cried, but his voice was strangely flat. He couldn't feel any desperation. He couldn't feel anything for his brother. Marcus looked up at him, a few tears escaping.

"I…I broke you, didn't I, nii-san?" he asked in a whisper. "That's what they meant when they explained my entry fee." He was flickering in and out, becoming translucent. "You won't miss me, I guess…" he murmured. "I…my entry fee…was your love for me…" Joshua's heart skipped a beat. "Goodbye nii-san." Marcus said, smiling sadly. "Even if you can't love me anymore…I know you're supposed to. That's all that matters." His body broke apart into television static. Marcus was gone.

The world stood deathly still. Joshua fell to the ground, all of his body numb. His brother was gone. He wasn't dead…he would never come back now. And he would never be able to care. Tears dripped to the asphalt beneath him, the apathy in his heart more painful than any other emotion he could imagine. He tried to whisper Marcus's name, to say goodbye, but no sound would come.

His memory was hazy after that. He felt strong hands picking him up, someone pulling him onto their back like a child. He heard an unfamiliar voice whisper, but it was hard to make out any familiar words. It sounded something like "Such a shame for an Imagination like this to just vanish." Joshua didn't understand what it meant, and he didn't bother trying. His thoughts spun in dead end circles, all focused on Marcus. Whenever the name appeared in his mind, he felt that alien apathy claw at him, trying to force his mind away.

Eventually, the stranger set him down on a bench of some kind, walking away. The smell of coffee filled the air here. Joshua had never liked coffee, but Marcus had always wanted to try. Joshua winced as the next wave of apathy hit him. "Come up kid. You need to eat somethin'." A strong hand pulled him into a sitting position. He was sitting at a table in a dark café. Someone had set down a mug of hot chocolate in front of him. Joshua looked up at the man standing beside him. He was tall, with black hair and friendly black eyes that glittered over the rim of a pair of small black sunglasses. He was somewhat young, in his late thirties at the most, wearing a sort of suited vest and black slacks.

"Who are you?" Joshua asked, his voice dull.

"Name's Sanae Hanekoma," the man said, smiling slightly. He pushed the chocolate closer. "It's not poisoned. It'll make you feel a lot better." Joshua placed one hand on the mug, ignoring the burning sensation. He took a slow, cautious sip. A warm feeling washed over him immediately. He looked up at the man- Sanae.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked quietly. Sanae smiled.

"I'm sort of a Guardian of Shibuya. I help out folks who have lost their bearings. You're…special." He hesitated a moment. "There's a light about you that most people don't recognize."

"A…light…" Joshua repeated quietly, sipping his hot chocolate.

"You're special Joshua." Sanae said, growing serious. "You can see things most people can't. You're immensely powerful. You could be great." Joshua sighed.

"How?" he asked, his voice shaking. "I'm broken. You…you know, don't you? You saw M…him…" he couldn't say his name.

Sanae nodded. "Yeah…I saw," he sighed. "But that doesn't mean you're broken. If anything, that only makes you more powerful." Joshua bit his lip. "Tell you what." Sanae sighed. "Go home, get some rest. Come back here tomorrow. We've got some things to discuss." Joshua stood reluctantly.

"I…th-thank you…" he murmured. He walked out, feeling Sanae's eyes on him, even after he was well away from the shop.

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Reviews loved, again. Maybe one or two chapters left.


	3. Chapter 3: Reaper

Last chapter. Hope you like.**

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**Call of Childhood**

**Chapter 3: Reaper**

Joshua found himself slipping into a routine. Every day he would do his chores and homework as he had always done, but he would slip out of the house to visit the WildKat café. Every day he would sit with Sanae, discussing the 'Reaper's Game' that Joshua had identified as his afterlife hallucinations. He had found that he did enjoy the taste of coffee, especially Sanae's. They would sit and talk for hours, until Sanae sent him home well after dark.

Sanae watched the light slowly return to Joshua's dead eyes as they discussed the Game. They talked about the missions, the Pact, and the Noise. They talked about the Reapers and their roles. The Reapers were Joshua's favorite subject. "So the Reapers control the Game?" Joshua verified one day, looking thoughtful. "What would happen if one decided they wanted to be more than that?"

"Well, it's not like they can just rise to power," Sanae shrugged. "I've told you how there are Support Reapers and Harriers, but they're just small fry. The ones who run the show are the higher-ups."

"Higher-ups?" Joshua repeated, frowning slightly.

"Well, every week a Game Master is assigned. He or she gives out the missions and gives orders about which walls are set up," Sanae explained. "Above the Game Master is the Conductor. The Conductor watches over Shibuya and makes sure the Music flows properly. The Conductor creates and Erases Noise, and passes now specific orders to the GM."

"So the Conductor runs everything?" Joshua questioned. "He must be very powerful."

"He is," Sanae nodded. "But he's definitely not the most powerful. There's one person above the Conductor." Joshua's eyes lit up.

"Who?" he questioned, lowering his voice.

"The Composer," Sanae smiled. "He's the one who creates the Music. He picks his Conductor, and he picks the entry fees for the Players. There's one for every area where a Game takes place."

"The Composer…" Joshua murmured. He was silent for a moment. "Sanae." He looked up at the shopkeeper, a strange light in his eyes. "How do you become Composer?"

"Well…" Sanae knew where the conversation was going. "Sometimes, the Composer…'retires', and so the entire chain of command moves up. More often though, someone defeats the current Composer." Joshua said nothing, his lips turned down in a frown. He stood suddenly.

"I should be getting home," he said suddenly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't do anything rash," Sanae called after him. Joshua held up a hand in an acknowledging wave. Sanae didn't like the look in the boy's eyes.

--x--

Joshua sat in his room, deep in thought. The Composer controlled the entire game…The Composer must be the one that brought the winning Players back to life. The more he thought about it, the more determined he became. He rose from his bed, heading downstairs. It was well past midnight, but time was hardly a factor to Joshua anymore.

"_Don't do anything rash,"_ Sanae had told him.

_It won't be rash,_ Joshua thought, a grim smile playing on his lips. _I've been thinking about this for a long time…_ Joshua heard the rumble of the car, its driver too drowsy to turn the headlights on. With a sad smile, he stepped onto the road.

--x--

It was a week of hell. Completing missions that most people would classify as suicidal in under an hour, with a hopelessly incompetent excuse for a partner. Joshua found himself saving the man frequently, then having to brush off his thanks. Being distant and rough seemed to come naturally to him after a while. How they managed to survive all seven days was beyond him. But they did. They both got a choice. Joshua's partner chose to return to life. Joshua chose the opposite.

It was a strange feeling, having an immense power placed into you. It was like the ultimate adrenaline rush, but it was somewhat painful, as if having an electric current passed through him. The Conductor was surprised. He said he had never seen a new Reaper with such large wings before. So Joshua stored them away. This seemed to surprise the Conductor even more. It was a great feeling.

--x--

The first five years blurred into monotony. Five years of Games, five years of Erasing Players. Every now and then, he got in a scrap with some stubborn Players. None of them survived. Even the higher ranking Reapers acknowledged his power.

So, when the Conductor was eliminated by an extremely powerful Player, it was Joshua who took his place. And several more years passed. It was torture, being only steps away from ultimate power. He knew the Composer's every weakness, being the only one who saw him in person. In a fit of frustration, Joshua fled Dead God's Pad. He needed to talk with someone.

"Hey there, Josh. Haven't seen you in a while. Sit down, I just brewed some of your favorite." Joshua could honestly say he was surprised. Sanae wasn't at all surprised to see him. He wasn't angry, or upset, and acted as if Joshua had just been on vacation. "That was a really stupid thing you did," Sanae noted as he set a cup down in front of Joshua. "But I guess it was only a matter of time."

"I needed to see," Joshua said simply. "I had to find out for myself."

"You sure did that," Sanae laughed. "Conductor in only a decade. That must be a record." Joshua looked at Sanae, frowning. "What's on your mind, Josh?"

Joshua was silent for a moment. He sighed loudly, shaking his head. "It's maddening," he said in frustration. "I'm so close! I'm the only one who even knows how to defeat him, but I can't! He's right there!" Sanae's dark eyes watched him.

"Look Josh, I understand what you're going through, but listen. Being Composer won't get you what you want. If anything, it will only make things worse. Just be happy where you are."

"I'm tired of where I am!" Joshua cried. "All the Reapers see the Conductor as the second-in-command, but it's nothing like that! All I do is pass on the Composer's will. I have more say as a Harrier! I want to be the one making the rules, not enforcing them." Sanae shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Josh. I can't help you." Joshua growled in frustration. He stood, storming out. Sanae sighed.

--x--

It was some sort of miracle. The Composer knew when He had been surpassed. He was ready to hand down His city to another. Joshua approached the imposing throne, heart thudding frantically. A small orb of light floated at chest height, inviting him closer. Joshua reached out a hand, and the light flickered. There was a blackout in Shibuya that night.

Sanae checked in every month or so. After a few years, he found Joshua deep in thought. "So Boss, how's everything going?" he asked cheerily.

"This is what I joined the Reapers for." Joshua sighed, smiling. "I've been examining some of the older Souls." Sanae caught on immediately.

"Boss, you don't want to do that," he warned. "You don't want to mess with a previous Composer's work. It never ends well."

"His Soul is still out there. I can restore his entry fee." Joshua murmured, eyes half-closed. "I've brought back enough Players by now to understand the concept.

"You don't understand," Sanae insisted. "He was Erased in the previous Composer's time. It won't work the same."

"It will. Just you watch." Joshua's lips turned upwards slightly, a sort of mist captured in one hand.

"He's not going to be the same!" Sanae warned. "His previous life has been totally wiped from his memory."

"That doesn't matter to me." Joshua murmured. "I'll know who he's supposed to be." That's all that matters." The rose to the almost invisible ceiling high above them, vanishing.

"You have no idea what you've just done, do you?" Sanae sighed. "You can't be attached to him. He doesn't know anything about himself. He's just another Soul. He won't look or act anything like Marcus."

Joshua placed a hand to his chest. He felt lighter, as if a weight he had forgotten he carried had suddenly been lifted. "Marcus…" he whispered. No apathy clawed at him. "He won't remember me…but I remember him. That's the most important thing." An image flickered into life in front of him, like a large television screen. The image of a little boy, probably only two years old with dark blue eyes and wild orange hair appeared there.

"So this is Marcus's new body…" Joshua smiled sadly. He looked up at Sanae. "Take care of him, would you?"

Sanae sighed, not thrilled with the idea of being a babysitter. Still, he understood how important this was to Joshua. "Sure thing, Boss." He turned, walking out.

Joshua looked back at the image of the small boy. "Neku Sakuraba..." The name sounded so familiar to him already.


End file.
